


A Lesson In Cosmic Irony

by rockinhamburger



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinhamburger/pseuds/rockinhamburger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, not many people own a ’59 Chevy. Still, Burt wasn’t exactly expecting to wander away from the hood of the car he was working on to approach the newest shop arrival and find a near-carbon copy of his son’s boyfriend climbing out of the driver’s seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson In Cosmic Irony

**Author's Note:**

> Despite being about a couple decades his junior, my love for Burt Hummel knows no bounds.

Sure, not many people own a ’59 Chevy. Still, Burt wasn’t exactly expecting to wander away from the hood of the car he was working on to approach the newest shop arrival and find a near-carbon copy of his son’s boyfriend climbing out of the driver’s seat.

The man was dressed in a crisp suit, and he smiled politely at Burt as he reached him. “Hello. May I speak with the owner of the establishment?” he asked, just as polite as his smile.

Burt raised an eyebrow. “You’re lookin' at him,” he said flatly.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the man said smoothly, and he held out his hand. Burt wiped his on the cloth hanging out of his pocket and grasped the man’s hand firmly. “I’m John Anderson,” he said. “I’ve heard your shop is the best Lima has to offer.”

“Burt Hummel,” he stated, wondering idly if all this was some sort of front for John Anderson to eyeball his son’s boyfriend’s father, but his name did not appear to hold any significance for the man. “And you’re right,” Burt added with a decisive nod. “This is the best place in town.”

“Excellent,” Anderson replied. “A friend of mine recommended your business highly, so I thought I’d ask you for your services.”

Burt nodded, waiting for him to elaborate on the services Anderson apparently needed, all the while marveling at the chances of Blaine's father walking into _his_ shop. God sure had an odd sense of humour, not that Burt wasn't well familiar with that fact by now.

“This car, you see, was rebuilt by amateurs,” Anderson said with a small smile; Burt, of course, knew the source of that smile and had to fight back his own. “So, it occasionally needs touch-ups, and I try to maintain it as much as possible but this time I need a professional. There's an... ominous sound coming from the engine; I'm pretty sure it needs replacing, and I simply don’t have the time or skills to do it. I’m hoping you can help me out here.”

“Not a problem,” Burt assured him. “My rates are reasonable, and I can have it done by Friday. You can pick it up any time during the day between 9:00 and 5:00.”

“Wonderful,” Anderson said. “I really appreciate it.”

They shook hands again, and Anderson asked to use the telephone to call for a cab. Burt directed him to it, and then went back to work.

So this was the man who had, according to Blaine, thought getting his son’s hands dirty might make him straight. Burt was very curious to know how things were between them now, but he knew it was none of his business.

Burt leaned forward to continue re-fastening the carburetor, distracted momentarily by his work until Anderson approached him.

“Thank you very much for your help,” he said, sounding friendly rather than business-like all of a sudden. “And for the use of your phone as well." He paused, looking around the shop. "This place looks great; I’m very impressed with the sprawl you have here.”

“Thanks,” Burt said. “It’s taken a while to get it like this, but I’m real proud of it.”

“You should be. How long have you owned it?” Anderson asked curiously.

“Just over twenty years now. Signed the lease a few years before my son was born.”

Damn. Burt really hadn’t planned to bring Kurt up; in fact, he was planning to avoid the subject with all his might. Maybe was just used to talking about Kurt to his customers. Hell, Burt was proud of his son, and he liked talking about him.

“Oh, you have a son?” Anderson asked. “He’d be, what, seventeen? Eighteen?”

“Eighteen next fall."

“I have a son the same age,” Anderson said brightly, and he seemed eager to talk about him, so Burt figured his relationship with Blaine couldn’t be too strained. Burt couldn’t fight back a smile. After all, he was well aware Anderson had a son who was Kurt’s age. “He goes to Dalton Academy,” Anderson informed Burt. "What school does your son attend?”

Burt hesitated, and then said, with a wry smile, “Dalton Academy.”

Anderson stared at him, but was soon laughing. “Well, if this isn’t the smallest world!” he chuckled. “I wonder if they know each other?”

Oh boy. Burt decided they had reached a point in the conversation where he couldn’t keep up the charade. It just wasn't honest. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll be straight with you,” he said. “I knew who you were as soon as you got out of the car; you look just like your son, and I only know that because he’s... well, dating _my_ son. So, yeah, they know each other all right.”

Anderson’s expression closed off immediately. He stared at Burt, hard, but broke eye-contact after a moment to stare down at the garage floor.

The smile vanished from Burt’s face lightning fast. “I really hope you don’t have a problem with that,” Burt said in forced even tones.

Anderson sucked in a breath. He looked up, eyes wild. “I didn't know. Blaine never said a word.”

Burt considered his words carefully, speaking slowly. "Sounds to me like you might need to have a conversation with your son.”

Anderson’s eyes flashed angrily, and he walked briskly away without another word. Burt watched him go, an uneasy feeling washing over him. He went back to the car he’d been fixing, but no amount of hands-on work could distract him this time.

He really hoped he hadn’t just put his foot in it.

-

Sure enough, only three hours later, as Burt was setting the table for dinner, Kurt flounced into the kitchen, scowl in place.

“I was just talking to Blaine on the phone,” he said, falsely airy, “and he had one _hell_ of a story to share with me!”

Burt looked guiltily from the cutlery in his hand to his son’s agitated face. “Uh, yeah. I think I know the story,” Burt mumbled.

“I _know_ you know the story,” Kurt cut in sharply, “because you apparently co-starred in it! Please, enlighten me. Why in the _world_ you would tell Blaine’s dad about us?”

Burt raised an eyebrow at his son, mimicking Kurt’s own usual addition to a conversation. “Why wouldn't I?” he said calmly. “Was I supposed to know Blaine was keeping your relationship from his father, Kurt?”

Kurt huffed impatiently. “We’ve talked about this before. You know full well that Blaine’s parents aren’t _you_.”

“Okay, listen up, kid,” Burt said tightly, putting the remaining silverware in his hand on the table with a loud clatter. “Blaine’s dad came into the shop today to have his car repaired. I knew it was him; he looks exactly Blaine. You think I didn't find that weird, that he came into my shop? Well, believe it or not, bud, I had the sense not to say anything, but _he_ decided to make small talk. Our sons came up, and when he realized you both went to Dalton, he wondered if our sons might know each other. Now you tell me: was I supposed to pretend I didn’t know the answer to that question?”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know, Dad,” he said crossly, “but that was the worst possible way for him to find out about me and Blaine. Now he’s angry that Blaine never said anything!”

“Yeah, well I’m not real shocked to hear that. I’m betting it’s 'cause he’s Blaine’s father, and I know from experience it’s not so nice when you find out your son’s been keeping stuff from you.”

Kurt looked away, clearly affected by the personal nature of Burt’s words. He sighed. “So you didn’t just come right out and say it?”

“Kurt, it’s me,” Burt said evenly. “Am I a chatty guy?”

Kurt’s mouth turned up in a reluctant smile. “Yeah, okay. I see your point." He frowned. "Sorry, Dad. I was just--Blaine was really upset, and I guess I just jumped the gun. As usual.”

“It’s okay,” said Burt easily. He nodded to the plates sitting on the counter. “Help me finish setting the table?”

“Yeah,” said Kurt. He got one plate into the job before he asked, “So what did he say when you told him?”

Burt set out the last fork and sat down at the table, frowning. “Not much. He just said Blaine hadn’t told him, and then he left. He didn't look too happy about it.”

Kurt pursed his lips with a sigh as he too sat down, in the seat across from Burt. “I hope he was just caught off guard,” he said worriedly.

“Yeah,” said Burt grimly. “Me too.”

-

Friday came swiftly, and Burt spent most of the day waiting for Anderson to walk into the shop. It wasn’t until just after four o'clock that he finally walked in.

Burt abandoned his work on the spot, heading right over. “Your car’s ready to go,” he said. “I’ve got your bill over by the register.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the main desk, but Anderson didn’t nod or start walking, just stood there looking out of place.

“Mr Hummel,” he said quietly. “I... apologize for my behaviour on Wednesday. I was... taken aback. But I want you to know I have no problem _whatsoever_ with our sons being... together. I care deeply for my son, and I accept him as he is.”

“Good,” Burt said shortly. “Glad to hear it.” Then he softened his words and expression. “Listen, Blaine’s a good kid. He’s good for Kurt, and he makes him happy, so that makes him all right in my books. You’ve obviously done a good job with him.”

Anderson smiled a real smile. “Thank you,” he said. Then he looked down, inclining his head like his son had many months ago in almost this same spot. He looked up again, eyes bright. “I'd... I’d like to meet Kurt sometime. Perhaps our families could have dinner together?”

Burt smiled a real smile back. “I think we could manage that. Sunday night too soon?"

"Sunday would be great," he said immediately, and he held out his hand.

Their handshake, this time, held far more weight and significance than the first and a different but welcome sort of agreement.

So maybe Burt hadn't put his foot in it after all.


End file.
